


A Pull and a Dream Equals Mayhem

by tmmdfi612



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Also dont know, First story, M/M, Master of Death Harry Potter, at the very least a fix it, maybe a time travel, maybe tomarry?, please help, poor harry doesnt get a break
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:28:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24122137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tmmdfi612/pseuds/tmmdfi612
Summary: Harry has been having dreams of the train station that he saw the when he died. Its messing with his ability to function. He asks finally asks for some help.First Fic don't really care if you hate as this thing is writing itself and I've no idea the direction. Help me.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Male Character
Comments: 1
Kudos: 6





	A Pull and a Dream Equals Mayhem

**Author's Note:**

> First Fan-fiction so tell me what you think if you can. I understand that it sucks. Thanks for taking the time to read it though!

It wasn’t the first time that Harry had seen the endless yet oh so constricting white void that made up the ethereal Kings Cross. He had been seeing it in his dreams nearly every night since the Battle. Since Voldemort’s death.

And every night he sees the pristine and empty crosswalk with the feeling of those walking past him even though he can’t see them. Shoulders that rub him in a way that streams of cold air bristle the hairs on the back of his neck. Can feel the reverberating rumble of the arriving and departing trains.

There is a pull here. It was no name, no face, no actual hands to be seen gripping at his very life. But he feels it. It whispers without breath and noise, crumpets of thoughts that he vaguely recognizes are not his own.

_Come… stay… help… belong… me… drowning_

He knows that he’s asleep. Can tell that the way that he drifts from scene to scene of the same image over and over again before his body awakes from the old that seems to ease through the cracks between these dreams and wakefulness.

He cannot even see himself. The flashes of movement are quick and stifled, like the movement of the mountains. But the presence is patient. Here time is relevant and no amount of begging can stop him from drifting closer and closer. To what he doesn’t yet know.

_Home… scared… cramped…mine…so close…becoming_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry groans as his eyes begin to strain from the cold that surrounds him as awareness bleeds into his frozen brain. Numb fingers press themselves into green eyes and for a few seconds the world only consists of the cold and pings of pain that come from the pressure emitting from behind his eyes. He can see his breath, white clouds that puff from blue tinged lips. Harry wondered not for the first time whether of not he was only imagining the crackle of the fire that still roared in the fireplace in front of him. Hi spot on the couch from the sitting room at Grimmauld Place becoming increasingly less and less ideal the longer he remains scrunched there.

Sitting up, his body offering its protests at the sudden movements with each crack and pop, only being ignored. He walked out of the room and its dreary peeling walls and into the kitchen hoping to find that perhaps he could beat Kreacher to the cooking for once.

‘Alas it ‘twas not to be’, he mused as he saw Kreacher skillfully preparing a meal big enough to feed even an entire clan of Weasleys. Its not that he disliked Kreacher’s cooking. No, it was just that he felt so goddamned awkward every time even now that months had passed.

“Master should not be sleeping on the couches each night.” The cranky chiding voice of Kreacher rang in the previously silent room. “Master should be sleeping in the Lords suite as is fitting for his title. “ A small smile bloomed on Harrys tired face.

“I dunno Kreacher, have you ever slept on that sofa? Makes for a very comfy bed it does.” Harry spoke with a grin, blue clad legs sliding into an already pushed out dinning chair. A plate filled with French toast and greasy sausage popped onto the table top in front of him and aa glass of OJ following suit.

“Master is not sleeping well as he should no, he is not.” The muttering continued. Harry only grinned in response, these conversations normal and expected now.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to sleep in a bed, because he sure as shit felt the ache that was beginning to become familiar as he was slightly too tall to fit on the purple satin settee. But it just didn’t feel right. The life he was living just didn’t feel… complete. Every time he thought of trying to go out and liv again flashes of that cold empty station shined and he relented, giving only empty platitudes to friends and family. Hermione had told him more than once with stern brown eyes and concerned murmurs that he needed to talk to someone about what was going on in that head of his but he was to hesitant still in shock of actually having no use in life.

He was a child soldier without a war. Hermione and Ron had set out to reclaim Hermione’s parents from the planes of Australia, leaving him alone to speak only with a half mad elf and the silence of an empty house. He knew that they needed time away from him, that they needed space to figure out what they wanted from one another and that they didn’t need him hindering them to prove that they may or may not be compatible. Harry had no qualms with that, preferring the silence as opposed to the bickering that must be happening. 

Harry had spent the first two months after the battle in a rush to get the Magical world back into a semblance of order, attending trial after trial either defending or putting away the surviving Death Eaters. The last one had been a week ago.

Severus Snape’s trial had been the most difficult. He had only just survived and was utterly pissed off for having done so. Harry felt for the guy he really did because he was in the same boat. They still haven’t spoken though Harry desperately wanted to. His memories had been relayed to the court and he had been absolved of all his crimes. As far as Harry knew, Snape was still at Hogwarts recuperating and planned on falling back into his old ways of terrorizing young children.

Perhaps a visit is long overdue, Harry thought seeing that is was a Saturday. The plate had now been cleaned and put away in a cupboard while he sat, off in his thoughts as always. With a plan made up clearing his throat, he thanked Kreacher and made his was up to the second floor where he had claimed the bathroom as his own. He did his normal ablutions plus a shower and changed out of his Quidditch pajamas and into some comfortable jeans and a slightly too big tee shirt. A robe that he had dug out of Regulus’s closet they day prior was shoved over his thin frame. Checking in the mirror he noted that his hair had dried into a nice floppy mess of curls as normal and his face looked a bit pinched. He vaguely noticed that he wasn’t wearing glasses, letting the bags on his face take center stage. He had gotten an illegal eye correction potion while on the run ad has no longer felt the need to keep them on for appearances.

He left Grimmauld Place feeling slightly better as the warm August air rejuvenated his resolve to speak with Snape, the Elder wand tucked into a wand holster that Kinsley had given him for a gift, claiming that to continue walking around with it in is back pocket was asking for trouble, not that he knew what the wand actually was.

Harry apparated just outside of the Hogwarts gates and waited, knowing that the wards would alert the Headmistress as to who was waiting. After only a few seconds of waiting, the iron raught gate swung open and the beckoning magic of Hogwarts swirled around him like a hug. The trek up the path was nice, if not a bit heart wrenching as the scorches in the walls still evident even after the months of time it had been renovated. McGonagall stood waiting in her normal green garb at the entrance. She greeted him with a small smile and a nod.

“Mr. Potter, may I ask what it is you need? You’ve not been around in quite some time?” She asked as he joined her on the front step.

“I came to talk to Professor Snape. Is that alright? I don’t want to bother him if its not a great time. I probably should have owed ahead instead of just shown up. I can hear the insu-“

“Mr. Potter’ she interrupted. “I’m sure it will be fine. He is currently in his quarters I believe if you still remember where it is.” Harry nodded and she sent him on his way.

Next chapter.

  * Harry talks with Snape about them both being alive and his dreams
  * Snape is his usually snarking self with some maybe uncharacteristic feelings.
  * Master of death stuff maybe.



Thanks for reading. Its my first fanfic and I really don’t know where to go from here. Comment if you have any ideas. I will be eternally grateful for any insight.


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